


J'en ai revé

by Marinia



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Cheesy, Class Differences, Everyone Is Gay, Gen, I Tried, Light Angst, M/M, Marquis Patton, Minor Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Mutual Pining, Noble Virgil, Romantic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Scholar Logan, Secret Santa, Singer Roman, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's not important tho, so fucking cheesy, this is like..., with very very
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 10:43:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17119856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinia/pseuds/Marinia
Summary: "The singer wore a veil that let his bronze skin gleam in the candle light, golden embroidery and precious pearls on his red dress  a token of his skill and a staple of the wealth it brought him. His red painted lips stretched into a charming smile that showed rows of white teeth.All three men turned to him, just like the other nobles in the room, and as the musician started playing on the piano and Roman slowly started to sing, Virgil’s world shrunk, until all he could focus on was the gorgeous singer with the heavenly voice. It stretched around the notes with grace, inflected with heavy emotion as he sung of love and betrayal and grief, swaying to the melody, grass green eyes travelling over his audience- until he met Virgil’s gaze.Red rose to Virgil’s cheeks, and he wanted to look away, but found he couldn’t, eyes locked with Roman’s as the singer subtly smirked; he enjoyed the attention of the adorable noble in his audience. The song continued, and all others fell away as Roman saw the other become besotted with him. He loved the other’s sweet smile against better knowledge, winking at him with the last few notes, carried on by melancholy. "





	J'en ai revé

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jinx_Luck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx_Luck/gifts).



Virgil “Angoissé” Sanders’s original reason for visiting his cousin, Marquis de Chiot, was to escape his parents and brother for a few months, their pestering about wedding plans and possible suitors finally driving him away. But, as he conversed with Monsieur Berry, a friend of his cousin’s, about the recent developments in astrology, he found himself suddenly aware of how little he missed his home, how seamlessly it’d been replaced by Patton’s château and, more importantly, those inhabiting and regularly frequenting it. The revelation had a careful kind of joy curling around his heart.

The noble looked up as his cousin joined them. Patton sat down next to him, his curly  black hair in an impressive up-do, a pastel frock coat highlighting his dark skin. It was easy to spot Monsieur Berry’s flush on his pale face. 

“I hope you’re having a good time,” he smiled, and Virgil suppressed a snort as he could watch the other’s mind reboot, not minding being ignored if only for the entertainment it brought him. Berry quickly straightened though, polite facade setting back into place. The only trace of his anxiety was his unsteady hands unnecessarily adjusting his glasses. 

“Of course, Monsieur,” his smile turned sheepish, “you know I always enjoy your gatherings.” Patton blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I have heard you’ve employed a new singer to perform today?” Logan asked, somewhat brusquely, hoping to ease the noble’s flustered state but still not having regained his composure. 

“Oh yes! He should start right about-” he stopped as he heard a servant begin introducing the coming performer: Roman Prince. “-now.” 

The singer wore a veil that let his bronze skin gleam in the candle light, golden embroidery and precious pearls on his red dress  a token of his skill and a staple of the wealth it brought him. His red painted lips stretched into a charming smile that showed rows of white teeth. 

All three men turned to him, just like the other nobles in the room, and as the musician started playing on the piano and Roman slowly started to sing, Virgil’s world shrunk, until all he could focus on was the gorgeous singer with the heavenly voice. It stretched around the notes with grace, inflected with heavy emotion as he sung of love and betrayal and grief, swaying to the melody, grass green eyes travelling over his audience- until he met Virgil’s gaze. 

Red rose to Virgil’s cheeks, and he wanted to look away, but found he couldn’t, eyes locked with Roman’s as the singer subtly smirked; he enjoyed the attention of the adorable noble in his audience. The song continued, and all others fell away as Roman saw the other become besotted with him. He loved the other’s sweet smile against better knowledge, winking at him with the last few notes, carried on by melancholy. 

He bowed to his audience of one, having forgotten the men, women and enbies applauding him, only seeing the violet-clad man that slowly regained his senses as Remy stood next to him, sending him a smirk that Roman elected to ignore. -It wasn’t like he wanted to do anything but to talk, to flirt, to enjoy himself. Even commoner were allowed some fun, weren’t they? Besides, he wasn’t naive enough to start something with a  _ noble _ . He’d learnt his lesson. 

But before he could head to the sweet gentleman, he was already swarmed by lords, ladies and serrahs, voices overlapping, smiles blurring and perfumes dizzying. The singer gave them a charismatic, practised smile, knowing these people could employ him one day, that his living depended on their fancy, but he inched away from the crowd as quickly as he could still. Still replied to questions he couldn't understand with pleasantries that held no meaning in fear of seeming rude. 

Thank the gods, he managed to escape and spy the cute noble, who was being teased by his employer-  _ oh, cruel world, why must you torture me so _ \- who in turn was being pined after by a scholar sitting with them. 

Roman took a breath, steeling himself as he walked towards them, the epitome of nonchalance. 

~

Virgil saw the singer head towards him out of the corner of his eye, and, eager to escape Patton’s incessant teasing, he excused himself, hoping the scholar wouldn’t be offended by his abruptness. He met the singer who’d bewitched him only seconds ago halfway, offering him a skeptic glance, which was met with a confident grin. 

“You’re a magnificent singer, Monsieur Prince.” Virgil said, for it was the truth, and although Roman was used to people complimenting him, he blushed.  _ Huh _ . No matter. He stepped closer, to an almost indecent degree- not that the other seemed to mind. 

“I would hope so,  _ tesoro _ ,” he twirled a lock of hair between his fingers, “either way,  I’m glad to have performed here... It’s so rare to find good company nowadays.” Roman delighted in seeing the other blush, his tough facade cracking; not that it took him long to fix his mistake, sadly enough. 

“Of course, singers  _ are _ always so limited in their place of business, after all.” The wry reply wasn’t expected and Roman was left gaping for a second-  _ rude! _ \- but he couldn't just let the other get the better of him so easily! The singer quickly put a smile on, hoping to cover up his faux-pas. 

“Oh, but we are, skeptical one-  whether the courts I sing at are Spanish, Finnish or French, in the end they’re all the same. We may not be limited to a place, but to a scene, a type of people- although you seem... distinct, -” 

“-Sanders, Virgil Sanders,” Roman took his offered hand, ”And please, Monsieur Prince, don’t take me for a fool,” Virgil’s smirk twisted into a self-deprecating grin, “A man as far traveled as you should notice I’m no different than any other.” They let go. Virgil’s hand felt cold without the other’s around it. 

“Quite the opposite, I fear,” Roman charmed. Virgil laughed, not convinced, but amused. 

“Well, I hope you’re worth my time then,” he teased.

Roman gasped, hand raised to his chest. “Such slander! It is truly a disgrace, to be treated so rudely by the one I’d hoped to be my company tonight!” He raised a hand to his forehead, careful not to displace the small tiara perched on his dark hair, noticing how pretty Virgil’s amused smile looked. “But then, how dare I expect anything else from those born into arrogance, those that drink from goblets of gold and sleep in beds of silver-” 

“It’s mahogany, actually. Silver would be a bit show-off-y, don’t you think?” Virgil’s smile only grew at Roman’s deadpan look. 

“You know what I meant-” the singer froze before his teasing reply could escape him, suddenly reminded of just  _ who _ he was talking to “- I- I’m sorry, I… I am more than overstepping my bounds, Monsieur,” he said, mortified at his break of etiquette, eyes on the floor- he’d just gotten so involved in their banter- but that’d be meaningless if the noble-  _ noble _ , Virgil was no commoner, he was off-limits, above him,  _ noble _ \- decided he didn’t like him anymore. Even if Virgil seemed like… like he was kind, and witty, and sometimes even sweet, that could change. And if it did, Roman would be left behind with nothing but rumours to circle around him, keeping him from ever getting employed here again. He couldn’t risk that. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Virgil saw the singer’s anxiety, his insides twisting at the thought that he’d caused it. “It’s not like it was unrequited.” A hesitant smile. “And I cannot speak for you, but I quite enjoyed having someone to banter with.” Roman chuckled at that, relief letting his tense muscles easing up again. Virgil’s smile grew.

“Oh no, your enjoyment is certainly reciprocated,” he grinned, gaze growing distant for a moment, before he returned to the present again. “But if you’re a Sanders, then you should know this mansion well, shouldn’t you? Family ties and all that.” 

Virgil’s eyebrows rose in question. “Well, duh. I do live here, Princey.” 

“Then you wouldn’t mind showing me around? It’s so boring always seeing the same rooms- there’s bound to be something more interesting behind all these closed doors.” Judging by the skeptic look Virgil shot him, he knew Roman wasn’t being quite truthful, but that was fine with him. 

Away from prying eyes, their teasing continued, and Roman had to keep himself from preening as he got Virgil to laugh. It was a beautiful sound. He’d love to hear it again. 

~

Virgil blinked as he saw the name on the envelope, before opening it, blushing as he noticed the paper smelt of the same perfume Roman had used at the soirée. He quickly unfolded the rose colored paper, snorting as he saw the extravagant, loopy cursive. Of course the singer ‘s handwriting would be unneededly dramatic, anything else would’ve clashed with his aesthetic. 

_ Dearest Virgil,  _

_ I hope not to disturb you too terribly, but after our meeting, I found myself reminiscing about our conversation, and yearning to once again find you in my presence to match wits and exchange quips.  _

_ Therefore, I am asking whether you shall be attending the soirée on the 16th of this august at Marquise de Lafayette’s Salon as I shall be singing there, of course considering your cousin’s approval. I hope to have piqued your interest, and to see you there...  _

_ Answer me soon, mio temporale-  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Roman Prince  _

It took Virgil a few seconds to stop his mind from reeling, feeling the redness cover his cheeks, reading and re-reading the letter over and over again, thinking of the flamboyant singer, of him wanting to spend time with him, converse with him, be  _ seen  _ with him- 

It was absolutely ridiculous. Ludicrous, even! -Almost hysterical. An asinine idea- if his parents ever found out, they’d be scandalised! Besides, this was probably nothing but a fleeting interest of Roman’s, he’d be after some other shiny quickly enough, really, it wasn’t worth the heartbreak- 

His eyes found the invitation again, the proof of Roman's affections. His chest filled with warmth as he read the words again, written in such a loopy script it was sometimes hard to decipher them. 

He got his stationary, cursing himself and the world at large, but still wearing a silly smile. 

~

Roman fiddled with his cuff links as he waited for his cue. The harpist, a slight woman who was further dwarfed by her giant instrument, shot him an annoyed look. He pacified her with a charming grin, but his nerves remained. Which was  _ dumb _ . After all, he’d sung in front of much larger crowds before, to much more important people. Really, this should be easy, effortless, child’s play. 

He peeked through the door separating the performers from the nobles, and saw Virgil, mingling with the crowd, and his heart jumped into his throat. He almost beat his head against the door frame, but it wouldn’t do to destroy the work Talyn had put into turning his shoulder-length hair into something resembling an updo fancy enough for Roman’s tastes. He hadn’t been this nervous when a servant took him to prepare for his show- for hell’s sake, he’d kissed the other on the cheek! 

And Virgil had blushed, looking for all the world like a dream come true… Roman wished he could sneak back to him, exchange jabs and banter, forget the judgemental stares boring into his back. It shouldn’t bother him at this point; ever since he took to singing before nobility he’d been beloved on stage and a commodity off of it, it wasn’t anything new at this point. But that didn’t mean it didn’t irk him still…

“It’s time, get on your positions!” barked another servant, Roman scowled at his rude tone, but did as he was told. Arrogant imp. He stood next to the harpist; she gave him a sympathetic look, but Marquise de Lafayette was already herding her guests inside, smile bright and easy. 

She wasn’t young anymore, laugh lines around her mouth and creases between her brows, freckles dotted across her cheeks, sweet and caring to everyone she met. If she was the only one he had to interact with, he wouldn’t mind singing for her more often, if he was honest. She had a way of making people comfortable that was similar to that of Virgil’s cousin. 

He was ripped out of his thoughts by the first notes of the harp. He straightened, putting on a sweet smile to fit the romantic ballad. The lyrics were mystical yet sentimental, a song he’d grown up hearing, the words imprinted in his brain, along with the memories of his family, his siblings, their home, filled with music to distract from the emptiness of their stomachs. 

He caught Virgil’s gaze, caught the wonder in his eyes, the tenderness. 

He sang with renewed vigour, the room fading until all he felt was Virgil’s soft gaze on him, their eyes locked, his fingers twitching to reach out. So close, even with a whole room in-between them. 

The song ended too soon and didn’t last long enough. 

Virgil had to force himself to clap and applaud with everyone else instead of running up to Roman and do something dumb, like taking his hand, like cradling his face, like kissing him. He was almost relieved at the gazes constantly on them; if it weren’t for them, he didn’t know if he would’ve kept his composure. He still hated them as they surrounded Roman, crowded him with questions and advances alike, his discomfort obvious in the tense line to his smile, the way his gestures, so grand and flamboyant as they first talked, were now subdued. 

A protective, cold kind of rage boiled in his gut, gave him the courage to wade through the crowd until he was next to Roman, next to this charming man he wanted-  _ needed _ \- to protect. 

He took Roman’s arm, smile sweet and false, saying something he wouldn’t remember later- asking the other to join him for a breath of fresh air? Roman gave him a grateful smile that stole his breath, and before his blush could ease, they were already on the balcony, his eyes plastered to the gardens below to avoid having to look Roman in the eyes, suddenly self-conscious. What if he’d read the signs wrong, what if he’d just taken Roman out of the spotlight unwillingly, what if the singer would never want to speak with him again, what if he never forgave him? What if- 

“Thanks for saving me back there.” Virgil looked up just in time to glance at the other’s beautiful-  _ sheepish  _ smile, his hands twisting on the railing. Their eyes met and for a second, there was only stillness, before Virgil finally managed to reply. 

“Well, you looked uncomfortable…,” he murmured, hoping his anxiety wasn’t as obvious as the heat on his cheeks. Roman smiled at him; it seemed the other could see right through the false smiles that beguiled so many. It was almost exciting, talking to someone who cared for more than the shows he put on, were they literal or figurative. 

“Still, thanks for the rescue,” Roman grinned, gently shoving his shoulder against Virgil’s, making the other chuckle. It was such a pretty sound, almost addictive. 

“You know me, the knight in shining armour.” Virgil scoffed at the inanity of his statement, wry smile in place. 

“Please!” Roman pointed at the noble in accusation. “It is  _ I _ who would be a knight, noble and bold!” His smile grew nostalgic for only a second as he remiscined about dreams long dead. “You…,” he hummed as he thought, banishing the silly thoughts, “most probably, mio temporale…,” he snapped as it hit him, “you’d be an enigma! A living mystery with their home at court but their mind elsewhere, a dark, mysterious figure, well-known for their dry wit and awful fashion sense-” 

“Hey!” Virgil pulled a mock-offended face, but didn’t bother to hide the amusement in his eyes. “I am  _ so _ fashionable.” He threw his hair back with his hand and a distinctly dramatic flair that wasn’t supposed to imitate  _ anyone at all _ . Roman pouted. 

“Nothing but scorn for my efforts… truly, it’s a travesty,” he sighed. “After all, is it my fault you dress like you’re still in mourning? No; I’m naught but the messenger, and yet I have to endure such cruelty-” 

“Jesus, chill,” Virgil grinned, even as he rolled his eyes. Roman threw a hand to his chest in shock and offence. 

“ _ Never! _ ” How dare the other even  _ imply _ for him to abandon his unearthly charms and magnificent personality?  _ So _ rude… “I am the epitome of grace and elegance, to even  _ think _ of critiquing my flawless self is  _ blasphemy _ , you-” 

Virgil tried to keep a smile off his face as Roman continued ranting. 

~

Patton watched from inside as his cousin argued with the singer, smiling to himself as the two men both attempted to hide their obvious amusement. They were such an adorable pair! He really hoped Virgil would introduce him soon, so he could gush over them up close! 

“They certainly are ‘adorable’, as the youths would say,” Logan commented and Patton jumped as he noticed the scholar leaning into his space, having followed his gaze. His friend quickly moved to steady him. “I apologize, Monsieur.” Patton nodded, flush on his cheeks, even though it was made subtler thanks to his darker complexion. 

“It’s okay, nothing happened, after all,” he smiled; Logan blushed, nodding mindlessly. Only as he looked down did the scholar notice his hands still encircling Patton’s waist- such an inappropriate act! He quickly untangled himself, hands folding together behind his back, trying in vain not to miss the solid form of the Marquis under them. Patton cleared his throat, smile having grown sheepish. 

“Uhm, sorry, I- do you want to go get a drink? With me?” 

It would be incredibly rude of him to deny a Marquis’s offer, Logan reasoned. He’d risk offending him, maybe even falling out of his good graces, he couldn’t risk that, surely. He had to think of his future, if he ever wanted to reach the kind of renown he so ceaselessly worked for he couldn’t afford displeasing a noble as popular as Patton- it had nothing to do with his sweet smile, with his warm eyes, with his pretty, black curls, partly pulled back, framing his face perfectly, with the fire so often alight in his expressions, with his warm, infectious laugh, with his boundless excitement for everything, with the warmth of his skin when Logan kissed his hand in greeting, with how-    
How lovely he looked, pastel pink ensemble highlighting his dark skin, freckles dotted across his cheeks like little stars, arm stretched out for him to take- 

“I- I’d be delighted.” Logan coughed slightly to hide the crack in his voice, tucking his arm into Patton’s, letting himself be led to a loveseat. The other thankfully overlooked his faux-pas, filling the silence with talk of the newest tidings of the astronomer’s gild Logan belonged to, asking for the his opinions only so he could hear him talk, seeing the passion lit in his eyes, the wild movements of his hands, the way his whole posture opened up. 

Logan leaned into Patton’s space, hand resting on Patton’s thigh, and even a fool could’ve identified the look on the noble’s face as lovesick as Logan talked on. 

A pity that Logan was a scholar. 

~

Virgil looked up from his sketchbook as a servant entered the sitting room he and Patton were currently occupying, a letter in hand. He already moved to return to his sketch, as the servant cleaned his throat. “Monsieur Sanders, a letter for you,” the servant said, and Virgil tried to quell the excited grin attempting to find its way onto his face.  

“Oh?” He motioned for the servant to give him the letter, thanking him mindlessly, already opening it with unsteady hands. A blush came onto his face unbidden as he saw Roman’s now familiar script. He discarded the sketchbook without a second thought.  

“Ohhh, did Roman reply already? I’m so glad you finally made a friend!” 

Patton smiled guilelessly as his cousin spluttered.

“Shut up! Besides, you don’t know if it’s him, it could be- I mean… shut up.” His shoulders hunched up to his ears as he moved to read the letter, hiding his face behind the sheet of paper and muttering ominously. 

Patton nodded exaggeratedly. “ _ Sure _ .” 

His focus on Roman’s reply, his addition to their most recent argument, spared Virgil from noticing the other’s pitiful attempt at a suggestive grin. 

_ Dearest Virgil,  _

_ As much as I am tempted to agree with your excellent reasoning, I sadly must oppose you on the basis of one simple oversight- As much as Nathanael’s infatuation with Olimpia may have been caused by his loneliness, there are scenes wherein his perception of her changes because because of the telescope, an object given to him by Coppola and thereby the Sandman, leading me to believe in a shared guilt found between both supernatural and psychological causes- _

Virgil couldn’t help smiling as he read the letter, obvious and adorable in his lovesickness, if you asked Patton. 

He couldn’t help it, the letters they exchanged had only made it more obvious to him how smart and witty Roman was- not that he’d ever tell him that- and discussing plays and prose with him was just as fun as gossiping or trading childhood memories. He’d never felt this kind of ease with anyone before- the ease with which they could tease each other in writing and in conversation, the ease with which he found himself trusting the other man, the ease with which he fell for- grew to care for him. Especially paired with the nervous excitement that cursed through him whenever he wrote a response, whenever he saw Roman grin, saw him sing, saw him  _ talk _ , voice infused with passion. It was like the world faded whenever the other man ranted about anything from Shakespeare to Schiller to his most recent employer- Virgil would gladly listen to him forever. 

Patton looked up as he saw his cousin startle. He furrowed his brows, curious and slightly worried, but deciding to observe for now. Virgil blinked, re-reading what appeared to be the last passage of the letter over and over again, disbelief and joy warring on his face- 

Virgil couldn’t believe this, only just holding back a burst of laughter. 

_ I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries when I tell you that I’d be absolutely delighted to accept your invitation, and to spend the holidays with you- there is no one I’d rather be with, to be frank… as unspoken as it may be, between us, I value our friendship most fervently. You are a most respectable and admirable person, Virgil, and a joy to converse with to boost. I cannot wait to see you again, and I shall count the hours spent away from you.  _

_ Sincerely Yours  _

_ Roman Prince.  _

And as indifferent as Virgil felt towards the holidays, for some reason, he suddenly couldn’t wait for them to come. 

~

Roman looked up at the Chiot family’s great country house. He stepped out of the carriage, watching two servants come out of the mansion, finely dressed, taking his luggage, the smaller one asking him to follow her. He nodded, mindlessly bidding the coachman good-bye. He wrapped his arms around his torso, even the short trek over the snow-covered pathway had him freezing, despite his thick cloak. 

“Monsieur Chiot and Monsieur Sanders are in the salon, they asked you join them,” she informed him. Roman looked up- away from the marble floors, the plush armchairs, framing the hall leading to the grand staircase splitting in two directions halfway up, the frescoed ceiling and walls, the heavy curtains beside the grand, clean windows, offering a clear view of the snow-clad yet cherished gardens outside; looked away from all the signs of wealth and riches and  _ status _ . Of all he never had and would never gain. His mind was suddenly cleared. Another servant took his heavy cloak. He noticed the warmth in the room, compared it to the cold that used to seep through his home, unless you were close to the always-burning hearth in their kitchen. He thanked the servant without looking at their face, before turning to the maid. 

“Lead the way, please, mademoiselle.” It had been easy to forget Virgil’s status when they were together, when the only sign of it was the sudden lack of judgemental looks shot his way. 

He regarded the details on the fresco with dread coiling in his stomach. It must’ve cost a fortune to have it painted. He looked at the maid’s back, the beautifully patterned short dress over her stays. They must pay her well. He never should’ve forgotten the distance between him and Virgil. The noble was born into lavish mansions, expensive clothes and luxurious parties, and Roman… he was Common. The thought stung. He shook his head to chase it away. 

This was no occasion for such doubts; Virgil had invited him here, to spend the holidays together, and he had no intention of letting anything ruin that. Not even his own thoughts. 

He bravely smiled at the maid, thanking her with a kiss to her knuckles as she held the door to the salon open for him. She rolled his eyes, but did it fondly. It was a familiar reaction. Roman felt earthed again. 

~

Patton looked up as he saw Virgil turn towards the door, lighting up as he saw Roman in the doorway. He really  _ did _ look dashing, in a red frock coat and an embroidered rose waistcoat, confidence draped over him like a shawl. His cousin seemed to agree, judged by the blush on his cheeks. It rivaled the pink details on his purple dress. 

“Roman! I’d feared you got lost on the way from the foyer,” he teased, and Patton waved the singer over, who plopped down next to Virgil. 

“You know me, dastardly devil, I’d never waste a chance at pleasant company- how are you, Patton?” Patton giggled as Virgil rolled his eyes, sinking back into the back of the coach, muttering ominously. 

“I am feeling quite wonderful, Roman.” Patton motioned at Logan. “You know each other, right?” Logan nodded, straightening his waistcoat. 

“Yes, we have made each other’s acquaintance.” It was hard not to, with them both so often in the cousins’ company. “It is pleasant to see you again, Roman.”

“I know, my presence is always a blessing.” Logan shared a look with Virgil, both rolling their eyes. 

“Right, Princey, you tell yourself that.”

Roman gasped in faux shock. “How  _ dare _ you-”

“It’s quite simple, really, I just tell the truth-”

“-The truth?! To proclaim such slander to be verity is a slight against the mere concept of it!” Roman gestured wildly with his hand, eyes looking at the mild distance. “It is a betrayal of what it stands for, to even utter it in the same breath as such- such-”

“Falsehoods?” Logan supplied, amused quirk to his lips. 

“Falsehoods! Yes! Thank you, Logan! See, he gets me,” the singer huffed. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, darling.” It was obvious that Virgil was teasing, but Roman still froze, blush spreading over his face at the pet name. 

“Well, you should be!” The noble, who’d frozen as soon as he’d noticed the pet name that’d snuck past his lips without permission, smirked as he heard the singer’s voice crack, obviously flustered. 

“Hey Logan, do you want to see the view from the observatory? It’s such a clear night, you could show me that constellation you talked about- Canis Major?” 

“Oh, uhm, I don’t think it’ll be-” Patton motioned at Virgil and Roman, not bothering with any subtlety whatsoever- “Uhm- I mean, yes, of course, I’d be... delighted to show you.” 

“Great! You have fun with each other, kiddos!” Patton took Logan’s hand to lead him out of the room, the scholar shooting he two other men an awkward smile. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Logan wanted to ask what Patton had planned- he was silenced by a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for going along there,” a blush to meet Logan’s was on Patton’s cheeks. “I hope you’re not averse to stargazing with me?” 

Logan looked at Patton, sweet, sheepish smile, warm brown eyes and plump lips. The epitome of beauty. Then he kissed him. Their lips met for only a few seconds, before Logan pulled back. His hand had moved to cradle the other’s cheek without him thinking about it, there was a pair of arms around his waist- Patton took a step towards him. Their noses almost touched. Logan looked up at him with big eyes, and for a second, feared to have overstepped. Then Patton kissed him again. 

His fears deserted him, replaced with euphoria. 

This- this was nice. Patton tasted sweet, like the sugar he always put in his tea. This- it was really,  _ really _ nice. 

Logan never wanted for it to stop. 

~ 

Virgil let out a breath as the door shut, trying to dispel the sudden awkwardness hanging in the air. 

“Well… that was subtle,” Roman muttered, Virgil snorted. 

“They probably wanted to have some alone time,” Virgil leaned against Roman’s side, “I swear, they’ll get together every day now.”

Roman hummed. He debated putting an arm around Virgil, surely it’d be too obvious? “Well, I hope it happens sooner rather than later, they are unbearably obvious in their advances.” He decided to go for it anyway. 

Virgil nodded, leaning further into Roman. “Yeah, it’s almost embarrassing- how do they not notice that they’re in love? I don’t get them…” 

“It is utterly absurd!” Roman used the hand not wrapped around Virgil to gesture wildly. “They are usually so intelligent too, I cannot comprehend how they’re overtaken by such selective bouts of blindness! It is simply-” 

A knock interrupted them. 

The two men quickly separated, blush dusting their cheeks, both avoiding to look at the other. 

“Monsieur Sanders, a postman just came-” 

“-at this hour?” incredulity rung in Virgil’s voice. 

“Yes, Monsieur, they said Lord Sanders had been most urgent about this letter’s timely delivery.” 

Virgil tried not to groan. “Of course he was…” His tone turned authoritarian as he turned to the servant. “Make sure the man stays here overnight, there should be a room available for him. Patton wouldn’t forgive me if I sent him out into the cold again. And the letter- please?” 

Roman watched as the butler gave the letter to their master, gulping down the discomfort he’d done such a good job of forgetting. It was silly; of course Virgil acted differently towards his servants, of course he felt no qualms about such things. It’d be silly, and  _ Roman  _ was being silly, finding such an issue with the ease Virgil had when dealing with his butler. It was only natural. Virgil was a noble. No amount of bickering, of shared smiles, of cautious butterflies, would change that. 

Roman knew that, or he was supposed to, at least. The door shut quietly, and Virgil looked at him oddly. 

“Are you okay? You look… unwell.” 

Roman put on a smile, practised and bright. The crease between Virgil’s brows deepened. “I am fine! Don’t mind me, just a bout of slightly irksome thoughts, nothing to worry about-” Roman cut himself off before he could add a title. It’d tip Virgil off and the noble already looked at him so doubtfully. He rested a hand on the other’s arm. “Come on, mio temporale, I won’t break in two.” 

There was still suspicion in his eyes, but Virgil let him lie. “If you say so…” 

“I do, so no need to grimace like that- whose letter even is that?” 

Virgil sighed, suddenly weary. “My father,” he used his left hand to rub at his eyes, “he’s always had a penchant for killing the mood.” Before Roman could even formulate a question, Virgil sat up straight again, exhaling as he put himself together. Roman nervously played with the cuffs of his frock coat. “I’m sorry, I am being unfair,” the words sounded uncomfortably practised to Roman, but he let Virgil go on, “he is just a rather… traditional man, regarding some things. It’s why I’m even here; our opinions don’t quite… match.” A wry smile on Virgil’s face, a snort escaping Roman. 

“Such surprise!” Virgil snorted at Roman’s teasing, the singer wanted to trap the sound between his hands, to keep it close to his heart when the world turned grey. “Well, if he’s such a downer, why don’t we postpone reading this darling letter to a time when we aren’t having such a gay, old time?” 

Virgil shrugged, not resisting Roman tugging him close again. “I’m sure as hell not complaining.” he cuddled close to the other’s chest, hands wrapping around Roman’s, playing with his fingers. 

“Aren’t you a poet,” Roman muttered, rolling his eyes, but it held no bite. He settled back into the couch, pretending not to notice when Virgil threw a leg over his, just like Virgil pretended not to notice when Roman freed one of his hands to trace patterns over the noble’s collarbones, exposed by his dress. 

They drank in the other’s presence, watching the fireplace burn, talking with hushed voices, exchanging laughter and ignoring the warmth they both felt in their bellies, the butterflies in their stomachs, the infatuation that slowly grew into something more. It was a problem for future them to handle, a problem for a time when their limbs didn’t feel heavy with cosiness, their eyes slowly drooping, the trust they shared and the affection they held enough to lull them off to sleep. 

Roman pressed a kiss to Virgil’s hair when he was sure he was asleep, the noble only huddling closer to him. 

They were together, and, for now, they were peaceful. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Powerless Discord Secret Santa, I hope you like this, Jynx! 
> 
> (Also, Patton's title literally translates to "Marquess of Puppies." This is't relevant, but I wanted to mention it anyway.)


End file.
